


Red Rebellion

by Gremory



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Demons, Horror, M/M, Vampires, World War, Yaoi, bek - Freeform, black eyed kids, demon, missing 411, vamp, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8334538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gremory/pseuds/Gremory
Summary: Dean Adams, a young vampire and his partner are the ones who harvest humans to sustain their population. Things take a dark turn when Dean becomes romantically involved with a vampire prince. Torn between his feelings and his duties and with the world on the brink of one final war who will he trust? Who is worth fighting for?





	1. amor in tenebris

             Reading reports of your death in old news articles is the most surreal thing and yet, here I am, Friday night in the Coldwoods nightclub, doing that very thing on my phone. Surrounded by smoke machines, strobe lights, pounding bass and that weird alcohol smell that permeates nightclubs and pubs, yet I don’t feel like getting up to dance or join the merriment. These articles, they fascinate me – all the little quotes from people who acted like they knew me more than they actually did, the over exaggeration of my life as though I was some golden student when I was just a doped up drop out… Twenty five years later and it still baffles me. People walk all over your grave to make themselves feel important. It’s not about your memory – it’s about them getting as much of the limelight as they could.

            The glow of the screen catches my friend’s attention.

            “Dean, you’re not looking at the news in a nightclub, are you?” Jak’s deep, rough voice growls in my right ear and a cold hand gently bats the phone out of my grip. It tumbles down between my ripped skinny jeans and lands on my lap with a dull thud. He smirks at me, long canines peeking out from his pale, thin lips as his crimson eyes turn back to the sea of dancing youths in front of us.

            I’m waiting for him to decide on a target. Once he scopes out the young man or woman we’re here to collect, I move in as bait.

            We’ve stalked Coldwoods a few times over the long years – it’s a popular nightclub for young LGBT adults just looking to make some new friends and dance or drink their cares away in the heart of Galisthros’s capital city, Kard. Any time we’ve been in here, it’s been dark, illuminated only by strobes and UV lights, glitter and glow sticks. I’ve always kept my attention on my phone in here – I need to take my mind off the task. You see, with me being bisexual, I have an easy time luring both genders to their graves. Jak isn’t interested in any gender so it’s always left to me.

            Tonight’s turn out is appealing, I’ll admit, but most of the guys here are already with someone. The booth Jak and I are sitting in has a perfect view of the dancefloor and overlooks the bar – it’s a perfect hunting ground. I pause for a moment as I lean over the table, taking a sip of my vodka and cherry soda. I don’t want to get drunk but the alcohol helps to douse the guilt of my actions. I wonder for a moment, if anyone is checking _me_ out, thinking I’m here with my boyfriend but Jak McArthur and I are not romantically involved unfortunately. Sounds weird to say that considering he’s the guy who took my humanity twenty five years ago. He was the reason all those missing person articles were splashed over the newspapers and online websites. He was a savior shrouded in shadow. And I fell for him like an angel being thrown out of Heaven, hitting the ground hard and being doomed to never embrace him. He’s never shown a shard of interest in anyone, male or female. Twenty five years is a long, lonely, frustrating time to pine for someone you know you’ll never get, huh? It’s…complicated.

            There’s a tragic irony in falling in love with your killer, isn’t there? Even more sad that another young man is gonna fall victim to the same fate tonight, except that he won’t be given a second chance at life. He’s just meat to the grinder.

            “Got him,” Jak tells me. I tilt my head towards him, flicking my dirty blonde hair out of my eyes. His red eyes are focused on the bar. “Go get him.”

            I scan my eyes along the groups of friends and couples ordering their next drinks and spot him – a slender youth, maybe late teens, early twenties, clad in a red and black plaid shirt and grey jeans. Looks nervous. He’s standing with his back to the bartender, expression as sad as the empty pint glass in his hand.

            I nod to Jak and get to my feet, downing the rest of my drink in one gulp.  For a few moments, I ensure I’m standing directly in front of Jak, blocking him from any prying eyes as he disappears into the darkness behind me, fades into nothingness.

            You see, my friend and I are undead – vampires – and we’re here for our dinner.

            I tilt my head, ensuring Jak had completely dematerialized. I reach up and slip out of my studded leather jacket, leaving it on the table so no one takes our booth and disappear into the swaying crowd and the dark bass.

            I approach the young man quickly before he has time to head back to wherever he was sitting and slink in between him and the group of pretty young women beside him. Shame – he’s kinda cute.

            “You okay, kid?” I ask him, leaning in so he can hear me over the music. I often forget that even though twenty five human years have passed, I’ve only aged two, making me nineteen. Time is weird. The young man glances at me and I notice his face instantly turn red. He takes a deep breath and turns his hips towards me as he addresses me.

            “Y…yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” His pupils have dilated. He finds me attractive. I’ve learned to pick up on that over the years. His free hand now rests on his hip as he stares up at me from behind his thick rimmed black glasses. Most guys find me decent looking, whether it’s the punk style, the lip piercings, the muscular build or the cocky attitude. I always found that funny – if someone came up to me the way I approached these guys, I’d find them irritating and arrogant yet it seems to work every time.

            “You don’t look okay. You get stood up?” I ask. He nods in response so I continue to pry. “Male or female?”

            “Male.”

            Confirmation.

            “Look, if you’re lonely, come have a few drinks with me. I’m kinda new to the city and you looked just as lost as I feel so I figured I’d just try to talk to you,” I begin to laugh. “I only moved here last month – was planning on applying for college.” Lies. All lies. “You don’t need to spend your Friday night down in the dumps.”

            “I’m not used to anyone paying any attention to me,” the guy admits, his eyes locked on mine. “I’m not really surprised I got stood up – I’m not very impressive.”

            “You impressed me enough to catch my eye.”

            “Why? I’m not even attractive…” For someone with such low self-esteem, he’s holding my gaze powerfully. It’s weird. I don’t respond to him and instead wave down one of the bartenders. I flash my fake ID and order her to get me two double vodkas on the rocks. Vampires have a higher tolerance to alcohol so what’ll make me tipsy will get this kid absolutely smashed. She obliges and I hand one to the lonesome youth who stares at it in disbelief.

            “You haven’t put anything in this, have you?” he laughs nervously but at least I’m making progress. Okay, he’s interested in me. Time to keep the momentum moving. He sits his empty pint glass down on the bar, swapping it for the new beverage.

            “Baby, I don’t need to drug your drink to get you naked,” I growl in his ear, a confident smirk on my pierced face. Just a tease. The young man’s face turns even redder at this and he looks up at me for a few moments before smiling at me. He’s adorable.

            “What makes you think you’re getting me naked?”

            “I’m a psychic.”

            “Oh? Tell me my future then?”

            Nothingness after tonight. The cold embrace of death.

            “Hmm, lemmie see,” I reach over and gently take his free hand, tickling his palm. “I see… I see a handsome blonde stranger,” he begins to chuckle as I continue, “Not the type you usually go for but he’s gonna sweep you off your feet, if you’ll let him. And look here,” I run my hand along his palm slowly, “I see a blossoming friendship. Perhaps something more…”

            “Okay, okay, I’m sold,” he laughs and I laugh with him, glad he’s accepting my cheesy moves. As we share our mirth, he tilts his head and muses, “Your teeth are so long.”

Only my incisors and molars are normal. My canines and premolars are elongated to sharp points. Normally the guys or girls I make a move on are too drunk to even notice but this kid is smart.

            “Special FX veneers,” I tell him with a grin, flashing them off even more. “Thought they suited my whole aesthetic, don’t you think?”

            “Vamp rock? Punk? I don’t know what you call it but they look so real, wow!” His blue eyes widen in awe as he stares at them for a few seconds before going back to his drink. “So, it’s okay to hang out with you?”

            I nod, “I wouldn’t have approached you if I wasn’t at least a little bit interested.”

            “You haven’t even told me your name yet.”

            “Dean. Dean Adams.” Doesn’t matter if he knows my real name – he’ll be dead soon anyway.

            “I’m Reiven,” he tells me. Fancy name. “Just call me Rei.” He smiles at me again, bright eyes so trusting and naïve. His black hair is short and fluffy, his ashen skin decorated with some small freckles. He’s smaller than me – maybe a head smaller – and he’s so skinny I honestly think I could break him in half if I tried. We drink together for a couple of minutes before I order a pitcher of vodka for our booth and we make our way through the crowd. A pang of suppressed guilt flashes through my veins. I don’t mind wiping some of my victims out of existence - all the fuckbois and parasites but sometimes I stumble upon someone like Reiven whose innocence is something the world needs.

I could take him somewhere private. I want to. He’s more attractive than the usual guys I have to bait, blue eyes framed with thick black lashes, ghostly skin radiant under the strobe lights. There’s something almost ethereal about his pale skin – kinda reminds me of Jak. Maybe that’s why I’m so into this right now.  The ashen skin, black hair. Probably not the actual guy I’m interested in but the similarities. I dunno. I hate this whole scenario though – I understand that I have to go and get a human for their blood but it’s moments like this that take me back to being a dumbass seventeen year old and going out and sincerely having fun. I could relax and let myself go but now any time I’m in clubs, it’s always with a mission, a goal, a grave waiting for a new body.

We small talk for an hour or so and I genuinely enjoy this kid’s company.  He’s more intellectual than my usual prey and we’ve been talking about the paranormal for ages. My fangs piqued his interest and now he’s discussing the possibility of vampires actually being real. I’m playing along with his excited chatter. He’s done a lot of research on us though most of his information is wrong. I love garlic bread so garlic isn’t gonna stop me, I’m tanned so sunlight isn’t an issue for me and sure, a stake to the heart would kill me but it’d kill anything with a beating heart...

We share the pitcher and he gets progressively drunker, our kisses becoming more passionate until, suddenly –

            A sharp pain flashes through my mouth as I pull back.  What the fuck?  I quickly throw a hand to my lip and realize the idiot has bitten me – blood trickles down from the cut he’s made. My lip begins to feel numb as the sharp stings of pain drown out my other senses. Fuck, that hurt!

            “Oh my god,” he cries, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to… It’s just with the alcohol and I was getting carried away and oh my goodness, I’m an idiot!”

            The taste of iron reminds me of my task. Jak is waiting for me. I’m not here to get laid – I’m here to ensnare. I need to hurry this up and get Rei outside with the promise of privacy.

            “If you’re getting carried away, Rei,” I reach up and run my thumb along his bottom lip, wiping the traces of my blood away from him, “we can leave anytime. I live quite close to here…”

            I’m not taking him home. Simply put: I don’t have a home in this city, this country, to take him to.

            “Lead on. I’m too curious to say no,” he purrs, eyes glazed over by the alcohol. He’ll probably end up throwing up if he has any more shots. “Besides, you taste delicious.” Strange comment but I need to remember I’m the one in control here. I’m the predator. He’s just a horny kid who’s about to walk right into the arms of the reaper.

            In the darkness of the back alley outside Coldwoods, I can sense Jak. He’s invisible but the air is icy, unnaturally so. Reiven shivers as he walks at my side and I pull him into me, pretending to stop for a kiss. He obliges. I know what’s coming next. I can feel the air pressure change, the atmosphere becoming like electric static. Distract him. I let my hands wander over his torso and back again, making sure he doesn’t pay any mind to the changes around us. I open one eye, expecting to see Jak’s dark aura rising up from the concrete, ready to pull Reiven into the abyss.

This is our modus operandi. I lure them, lead them somewhere private and then Jak opens up a portal back to Gethmane and we drag the kid back with us.

The black portal is opening up right behind him but as I pull back to observe him being swept from the dark street, a smile spreads across his face.

            “I knew you were a vampire,” he laughs quietly, his drunken mirth from earlier completely gone. He stands before me now, serious, sober. With that, black claws reach out from the opaque pitch and he’s yanked backwards into the swirling void. I frown, confused by the night’s events. How the fuck could he know what I was? Why would he even believe vampires were real? Jak and I have been meticulous with our harvest, taking one person each month from all over the country of Galisthros. We’re undead – we don’t show up in CCTV, photographs, there’s never any evidence. There are no other vampires in Galisthros save us and we’ve travelled a long, long way to stalk the streets. We’ve been so careful.  Unless…

            Reiven had bitten me.

            It couldn’t be…could it?

            I can ponder this later – right now, Jak’s portal is closing and without it, I’m stranded in another continent, thousands of miles from where I need to be, back home in Gethmane. I shake my head, take a deep breath and step into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

     I’ve always hated travelling through these portals and tonight is no different – I fall out of the black ripple and onto my knees coughing and spluttering. It takes less than a split second to move between continents, a literal blink of the eyes – I don’t even get to glimpse the void we travel in – but it always leaves me with my stomach in my mouth and my knees weak.

We’ve landed in the Blood Works laboratory in the Kingdom of Vankus, Gethmane. This is our contact point – we come back here, drop off our quarry to our contact, Dominique Lewis, head scientist of the haematology division of the castle’s biomedical research labs. They do everything in these laboratories to sustain and preserve their vampire nation.

You see, vampires are infertile. All of us, myself included even though I’m only a half-blood. Gethmane wasn’t always a nation of undead. Five hundred years ago they were all human beings, as normal as you like until political tensions grew between the east and the west, Gethmane and Galisthros. At that time, both of them were superpowers on the world stage and enjoyed flexing their military muscles. Thing is, what I’d learned in history class at school and what I’d learned from Jak were two entirely different things. The stories start out the same: the Dark War didn’t start as a direct confrontation between the two countries though. It started as a border dispute between two tiny countries in the far south – one side had grown close to Gethmane, the other to Galisthros. Neither nation should have gotten involved but both wanted to prove the stronger. The conflict escalated to a full world war, the first and last our world had ever seen. All kinds of weapons were unleashed and it looked as though Gethmane was going to submit – Galisthros had developed superior aerial weapons and crafts. When it looked like the war was going to end and Gethmane would surrender, a dark cloud descended from the east. A plague. Gethmane had put all of its military funding into bioweapons research and unleashed the worst plague history had ever seen, wiping 90% of Galisthros out within a week.

The truth was that the plague was even more ungodly than Galisthros could ever have imagined. In those last days before the end came, the mad and elderly King of Vankus had done the unthinkable.  He’d managed to summon the forces of the Nightmare, the vile demons that are a part of every single person’s psyche, controlling anger, anxiety, sadness, feeding off of negative emotions. In a chilling pact, he sacrificed his entire nation in exchange for the strength of the underworld. A black cloud descended over Galisthros, yes, but that was no plague. The demons destroyed people from the inside out, ripping out their sanity and turning them into unholy husks who destroyed each other.

The end came so quickly.

In the aftermath of the chaos, Galisthros were the ones to surrender and Gethmane quickly isolated itself from the rest of the world, shrouding itself in that black cloud, immune to satellite photos, aerial reconnaissance, sealing off trade and exports. Gethmane has had no external contact in five hundred years, leading Galisthroan citizens to live in perpetual fear of when the next plague would come. I know: I was one of them for my seventeen years as a human, being born and bred in Kard, the capital city of Galisthros. The uneasy feeling was nailed into us at a young age through our parents and the school system. Always be aware. Always be ready for Gethmane’s next movements. After all, sleeping giants have to wake some time, don’t they?

I’d found out soon after being turned that Galisthros has nothing to fear from Gethmane, save for the harvest. Gethmane demilitarized quickly after the King’s death, declaring themselves a pacifist nation to the people. The mad king had passed two months after the war and left his son, Axel Chalicen Faolin, to deal with the aftermath and the horrific reality that he and his countrymen were growing fangs and a taste for blood.

Vampires aren’t immortal. They die eventually of old age or murder, suicide, whatever but the ageing process is slowed down tremendously. For a full-blooded vampire, one who was alive during the time of the war, ageing is stalled to one year for every fifty human years. For myself and any others who were turned by a full-blood to keep the population up, we age one year for every ten.

In order to deal with this new found bloodlust, Axel gathered the country’s best scientists and researchers and within a few years, the Blood Works was born: a place to sustain the vampiric population at the cost of one human life every month.

The pristine metal floor is cold and clinical, the lighting bright and blinding. I always hated this place – the putrid smell of blood and that rancid yet sweet smell of death permeates the air. You might find that weird that a vampire finds the smell of blood repulsive but understand I’m only a half-blood. I still retain part of my humanity. I wasn’t born a vampire but that’s a story for another time.

As I’m on my knees, I glance up to see Jak and Reiven casually strolling past me, calm, both of them. Reiven is still conscious? The shock of the teleportation usually knocks our victims unconscious… For a second, Reiven’s chilling words have slipped my mind but as he walks side by side with Jak, the older man towering over him. At least I think Jak’s older – I’m having doubts about who or _what_ this strange young man is.

“I’m surprised it took you so long to find me,” I hear Reiven’s voice through the ghastly odors. He sounds perfectly serene and this confuses me greatly. Jak grunts in response as the pair head off down the corridor towards the main laboratory.

I get to my feet, resting a hand on my stomach and putting some pressure on it to try to quench the queasy feeling. A burning sensation in my gut tells me I overdid it with the vodkas earlier… Heartburn and teleportation nausea: fucking great.

My lip still feels numb from where Reiven sank his teeth into me. I’d passed it off as him drunkenly losing control but he seems to be aware of Vankus and the Blood Works and it’s troubling me. A bead of sweat forms on my brow and trickles it path down my nose, coming to rest on my septum piercing – a large black ring hangs from the center of my nose. My lip hasn’t swollen – I’m thankful as it’d be uncomfortable with the two black studs on either side of my lip. Why did he bite me? I shake my head, blonde spikes staying rigid with the copious amounts of hairspray I’d used earlier before we’d departed for the hunt. I reach up, running a tattooed hand through the right side of my hair, feeling the rough texture of the shaved section.

Who the fuck are you, Reiven?

Old combat boots scuff and echo as I lazily jog to catch up with Jak and Reiven – they’re almost at the end of the corridor. This part of the Blood Works isn’t so bad, save for that grotesque smell. I don’t care what Jak says – I’ll never get used to that scent, no matter how many centuries I spend here. Breathing through my mouth is no better – you can literally taste the death. No, it’s the next part of the Blood Works that makes me feel ill with guilt.

I catch up with the two men and follow them through the metal doors to the Blood Works Major. This is where we have to bring our harvested humans…into the laboratory where the Vankan scientists get to work with their exsanguination. Jak throws the heavy doors open and I’m greeted by that horrific sight – hundreds of huge glass containment vats, each with a single human floating in…something. I don’t know the ins and outs of the process – I don’t _want_ to know. It’s fucking abhorrent. The people are still alive though barely. Over time, the scientists extract small amounts of blood and manage to duplicate the blood multiple times. A single human can feed an entire city for a year but Gethmane is a big country with multiple cities and towns all with their own Blood Works. Their Blood Works are simply massive tanks separated by each blood type – the blood is transported from Vankus but the actual unholy process takes place here, in the depths of the castle. Whenever we drop a human off, I leave as quickly as I can.

I could have been one of these poor youngsters. Like I said, I wasn’t always a vampire and there was a time when I was completely oblivious to the fact that I’d been stalked and hunted for dinner. The humans are always unconscious and never feel any pain…at least, I _hope_ they never feel pain.

Reiven continues to talk to Jak as we walk, “I was unaware of your partner, Dean.” My ears perk up as I hear my name being mentioned. “He’s an attractive one. Almost had me. Charming even though he’s cocky. I can see why he works well as a harvester.”

“Who are you?” The words fall out of my mouth before I even realize I’ve said them. Reiven stops in his tracks for a moment and turns to face me – I’m frozen by his eyes. They’d been blue in the club but now there was a deep sanguine, almost exactly like Jak’s.

“I’m just like you,” he tells me with a smile. He opens his mouth and I’m shocked to see his fangs are similar to Jak’s. Half-bloods like me, the ones who were once human, have several elongated teeth, almost like a wolf but full-bloods like Jak have two extremely long and sharp canines, almost serpentine. Reiven has the same teeth as Jak.

“What? How did you-“ I shake my head in confusion as a maelstrom begins to swell in my stomach – it’s not nausea anymore; it’s that sick, gross feeling of anxiety.

Reiven reaches over to me and places a hand on my shoulder, careful to avoid the spikes in my leather jacket. “Glamour,” he tells me.

“How? I don’t understand.”

“You’ll learn soon enough, kid.”

With that, he turns and we begin to walk again.

Jak has been quiet this entire time. It’s a little unnerving. He’s not usually a man of many words but I thought he’d have had at least _some_ input on this weird turn of events. The way Reiven addressed him tells me that they know each other somehow. Then why did Jak tell me to go after him, to try to harvest him, knowing full well that he was one of us?

I follow the two men sheepishly, quietly, thoughts swirling in my mind like a whirlpool of doubt. That’s when Jak breaks the silence,

“Axel wanted you back,” he tells Reiven. I frown. King Axel of Vankus? Certainly not, surely?

“Huh, why am I not surprised?” Reiven sighs in defeat. “Hasn’t he realized that he’s the reason _why_ I keep running off? Life in this castle is dreadfully dull and I’ve already spent three hundred years trapped in these boring halls. What does he want now?”

“The thirteen generals are calling for the monarchy to loosen the restrictions on blood rationing,” Gethmane is split into thirteen counties, each one ruled by a member of the aristocracy, relations of the royal family. They’re really just figure heads – the real power rests in the hands of the monarchy in this castle. “They claim there’s been some unrest in the town of Bleak Hills. Working class have been protesting the new laws.”

“We can easily supply the provinces with more blood. I don’t understand why Axel can’t see that.”

“He’s worried the Galisthroan public will notice patterns within the missing people.”

“One person a month from any corner of the country? How can you find a pattern in that? You don’t take them all from the same area. People go missing all the time, whether voluntary or not – Axel needs to drop the paranoia.”

“Your Royal Highness, I fear he needs to hear it from you and your brother.”

My stomach crashes to the floor. _Your Royal Highness?_ Holy fuck.

I’ve lived in this castle for twenty five years, since Jak swept me off the streets of Kard in Galisthros and I’ve never once even caught a glimpse of the monarchy, let alone make out with one of them in a dark nightclub. So surreal.

“Jak, why did you tell me to take him out?” I ask suddenly. I hear Reiven laughing.

“To show you off to me, obviously,” he chuckles.

“Your Royal Highness, it was to prove to you how good we are at our jobs,” Jak growls. “I could have tracked you down by traditional means and contacted you through correspondence but what better way to demonstrate my protégé?”

“Well you completely ruined my plans. I was there to track someone that I’ve been watching for a few months but you sent your lapdog over to hump my leg instead.”

His fucking lapdog? Excuse me? I’m about to say something but I don’t fancy my chances lashing out at the vampire monarchy…

“You were more than happy to indulge him,”

“Indeed. I was going to turn him away until I noticed his fangs. I wasn’t there to hook up.”

“Your quarry,” Jak growls, “care to elaborate?”

“Not now.”

The two continue their chat as I follow. I’m trying so hard to keep my eyes forward on their backs but I keep glancing at the containment vats. Horrible death but one life in exchange for an entire city’s survival? I keep trying to justify it…I _know_ it’s justifiable but I…I guess I’m still set in the human way of thinking. I should be looking at these people as dinner, as something just to be used and consumed and I _try_ to think that way.  I try so hard during the hunt when I’m baiting these people, but…then I think of their dreams, their families and I end up torn apart inside all over again.

“Come,” Reiven tells us, “I wish you both to accompany me to Axel’s chambers.”


	3. Chapter 3

     Reiven leads us through parts of the castle I’ve never even seen before. Once we’re through the Blood Works and past the eating and living quarters for the castle’s servants (myself and Jak included), we pass through the servant’s library and recreation area, passing pool tables, the swimming pool, and then we make our way past the training arena. The arena is used almost exclusively by Jak and myself though these days I spend the most time in it. Equipped with a top of the range gymnasium, heated swimming pool, poles, aerial hoops and a whole array of sporting and monitoring equipment, I’ve spent many an agonizing, adrenaline filled night in there as Jak pushes me to the peaks of my physical abilities.

After that we enter the first courtyard – I’ve been here before but I’ve never crossed through it to the other side. I’m well aware that the other side is where the nobles reside and the scientists of the Blood Works. Reiven leads us through the pretty flower beds, past the stone fountains and under the glass canopy to the open walkway leading to the huge stone barbican. You see, Vankus Castle is split into three parts – the servants’ quarters, the training arena and whatever lies behind the barbican. I imagine it’s mainly just the monarchy’s quarters, maybe a banquet hall or something but as I follow Reiven, I’m blown away by the sheer size of this castle.

We pass through another courtyard, this one trimmed with gold and marble and fountains spraying as high as the heavens. Dotted around the courtyard are the nobles, fanning themselves or enjoying the summer sun. As Reiven leads us, I notice how all these people, clad in their spectacular gowns and coattails all get to their feet and bow deeply until he passes them. It’s surreal to see noblemen and women pay their respects to someone clad in skinny jeans and a plaid shirt.  

We walk in silence now, through torch-lit corridors and grand hallways draped in tapestries and the most beautiful paintings. I can’t help but stare at the canvases as we pass them. I don’t recognize any of these people – they must be Reiven’s ancestors. Eventually we come to paintings of Reiven himself – he’s positively radiant, ethereal. Beside him is a young girl clad in a cream floral dress. A sister perhaps? Or maybe a daughter? To the eye Reiven appears young but you can never be too certain with vampires.

As we’re about to enter another grand courtyard, Reiven takes a sharp left and we ascend up a spiral staircase.  The tiny steps and enclosed walls make me feel slightly ill and I find myself grabbing onto Jak’s shirt for some strange form of comfort. I hear him chuckle quietly – Dean Adams, harvester of souls, vampire, undead and positively terrified of tight spaces.

“You’ve never been up here before, Dean, have you?” Reiven asks me, his voice echoing through the stairwell.

I shake my head then speak, “no, I’ve never passed through the barbican.”

“Everything past the barbican is the original Vankan castle,” he explains. “Built seventeen hundred years ago. It stands strong today as a result of tireless renovations and constant care. I would have no other place as my home.”

“Why were you hanging out in Coldwoods in Galisthros?” I ask him curiously. “This place is beautiful.”

“I told you earlier – I had quarry to chase but _you-“_ he says it playfully, no malice or annoyance in his voice, “ _you_ had to go and distract me, didn’t you?”

“I do apologise Your Majesty,” I tell him awkwardly. I don’t know how to address him and I’m not surprised when Jak corrects me.

“Your Majesty is King Axel’s title,” he says quietly, “Reiven and his brother, Angel, are Your Royal Highness.”

“Or we can just skip the nonsense instead, no?” Reiven interjects. “We were swapping saliva in a dark nightclub only an hour ago – I think Dean and I are a little past the formalities, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jak is silent.

We come to the third floor and Reiven leads us through a door to the left. This corridor is stunning – marble floors glisten and glitter under the flaming torches. A large red door awaits us at the end of the corridor.

“This is Axel’s room,” Reiven tells us. “You will find Angel’s room on the first floor and mine on the second.”

I cast my gaze around the empty corridor – there’s not a single soul in sight. “No guards?” I ask.

Reiven laughs in response. “We don’t need them,” he tells me. “No one is stepping foot inside this country, let alone this castle. And let’s just say that lady luck is not on our side: if anyone ever does get past the barbican, these halls are haunted by spirits devoted to my family. They will not get far.”

Morbid.

“We will wait outside,” Jak tells Reiven as we approach the brick red door but the young prince shrugs.

“I didn’t bring you both up here to wait outside and twiddle your thumbs. Come,” with that, he throws the door open without any thought of knocking. How fucking awkward.

“Darling brother! Your favourite little vampire has returned again!” Reiven yells, a smirk on his face. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he leans into me, “Axel can’t stand me,” he giggles.

The room is dimly lit with one candle flickering and standing guard on a cobwebbed candelabra atop a large writing bureau. I glance around the room and see a perfect polar. The side of the room we’ve just stepped into is well-kept and glorious – flocked silk bedding, red and black, drapes over a massive oak bed. The wood is polished and rich, probably centuries old yet still looking as good as new. The floors are stone but a single strip of red carpet entices my gaze from this part of the room to the other, more decayed part. A row of ancient bookcases stands tall on the other side of the room, glaring at us for our intrusion or so it feels. The spines are grey with age. Above them, hanging high from the tall ceiling is a massive gold chandelier. It hasn’t seen use in some while – even the candles wedged into it are thick with dust. Numerous paintings drape the walls but most of them are worn and uncared for – a stark contrast to the paintings we passed earlier.

“Reiven Dixaellus Faolin,” a voice seeps from the shadows like venom from an open wound - unpleasant, dark. The King is in a foul mood it would seem. In the far corner behind the writing bureau, a tall figure leans into view, white skin framed by long black hair, slender fingers clasped above an open, dusty book. “Six months you’ve been missing this time. Do you have any idea how mortifying it is to try to explain your constant absences to the Generals? Messenger after messenger I send with lies about you being bed-ridden with a non-existent illness! Hogwash, all of it!”

The tall figure rises to his feet and approaches us with a swish of a long black robe. He steps towards us, illuminated by the light spilling in from the open door. He’s handsome but there’s something very eerie about him. It’s those red eyes, I think. Axel peers down at me from his long, sharp nose, his eyes narrowed. I don’t know if it’s just scrutiny or its disgust. He doesn’t pay any mind to Jak but then again, Reiven seemed to already know Jak. Jak’s been around a lot longer than I have so it’s probably no surprise that he’d be some level of familiar with the monarchy.

Axel raises a white hand and begins twirling a long, waist length strand of straight black hair around his fingers. He doesn’t look very impressed by me but then…I’m probably not the kinda guy he’s used to seeing. I’m not exactly all velvet and ruffles – I’m more a tartan and mohawk kinda guy.

“I do not recall asking you to bring guests to my chambers,” he states, his tone stern and stoic. Rei shrugs.

“Funny that - I do not recall you asking me _not_ to bring guests either.”

“Dixaellus, you cannot come and go from these walls as you please. The world is dangerous, especially when you dare to travel beyond our borders.”

“Then give me bodyguards!” Reiven demands, throwing his arms out as he begins to pace the room, “Give me someone to protect me if I’m so important! I’ve even brought you two able bodied harvesters.”

“What?”

“He does make a good point,” Jak growls. “We are exceptional at our work.”

“You are harvesters, not bodyguards.”

“And you can name a better duo to guard my life?” Reiven asks him. Silence. “Look, the Generals are right – loosen up the blood rationing and let the people enjoy themselves. There’s more than enough to go around. Maybe if you would stop giving the nobles preferential treatment and keeping obscene amounts for yourselves, the people wouldn’t feel the need to make noise!” Reiven is animated as he argues, arms flying wildly about the room, full of motion and energy. He’s passionate about his beliefs, whatever they may be. I’m surprised he’s siding with the common folk – would never have expected that from a prince but then again, Reiven seems to have a wanderlust so… He’s rambling on and on about how Axel should be thankful the people put up with him and his Generals. Definitely a dreamer by the sounds of it.  I like him. I like him a lot – he’s the kinda prince I can support.

“Dear brother, I have given you my thoughts as you wished and now I will take my leave. I have personal interests to pursue, if you don’t mind.” With that, Reiven spins on his heel and storms out. I glance at Jak but before our eyes can even meet he’s already on his feet following suit. Fuck, what do I do? I need to run after them but I don’t wanna just walk out on the goddamned King!

Before I can do anything, Axel growls at me, “well you’re not going to do much bodyguarding if you just sit there, are you?”

I leap to my feet and give Axel an awkward, toothy grin before bowing and bolting out the door after my companions.

_Dean, what the fuck are you doing?!_

I don’t know but it’s better than being rude!


	4. What Keeps Me Human

I’ve been an unofficial bodyguard for one of the three Vankan princes for a week now. After Reiven’s altercation with Axel, he told me he would call on me and Jak when he needed us. Nothing yet.

  
When we’d parted ways, he’d hinted that he may be heading back to Kard. I don’t know how that’s gonna affect my job though – what if Reiven wants us running after him in Kard while we have another youngster to harvest? Maybe they won’t clash too much… Who knows?

  
I close my eyes for a moment and stretch out in the comfort of my bed. The room is still dark – it’s early morning.

  
In the serenity of morning my mind often falls back to the night I met Jak. The night I…lost my humanity. I close my eyes and relive it again. This is common for me – I’ve never quite been able to get over how my life was ripped from me yet I find myself in this weird catch 22 where I’m thankful for what I have now and the extended life that was granted to me but…it’ll never stop hurting.

  
I close my eyes and relive the moment again.

  
_“Dean, you don’t have to walk me home,” Araz’s voice drifts through the warm summer air like honeysuckle on the breeze. We’ve been together for a year now, he and I, privately. We’ve been able to keep our relationship hidden from friends and family, often escaping from the crowds and sharing our intimate moments in the safe refuge of secluded areas._

  
I met Araz two winters ago when he moved to Kard. He’d joined my class at school and I’d instantly been smitten with his dark brown eyes and brown hair. He was taller than me, older by a few months and more mature but he…he calmed the flames that blazed furiously in my soul. Araz Karapetyan was…my first love. Up until I met him, I had no idea that any part of me was even remotely interested in the same sex but he sparked a new fire in me that refused to die.

  
My high school life became a comical trial and error of trying to befriend the older teen. He was shy, logical and nerdy – I was a trouble maker, rebellious and rowdy. He was a math nerd and I was the punk kid who drank underage on school nights and got high round the back of the school bike shed. We were worlds apart. He wanted nothing to do with me until we’d crossed paths again at a house party. Turns out the square kids are the one who get the most fucked up. Araz was so drunk – it was like all his colours flowed out of him when he followed me into the hallway, ushered me upstairs with talk of how we had important issues to discuss and made his move on me. And, well, me being drunk too, I didn’t fight him off. I welcomed it. I was curious. He’d taken me by complete surprise – I’d been expecting him to scold me for not leaving him alone but apparently I’d caught his eye.

  
I miss Araz terribly, even today. I’ll never fight off the guilt of abandoning him. The pain I must have caused him when I never returned… I hate thinking about this shit but it seems like any time I’m left alone for a period of time, my demons come to haunt me and my demon is Araz himself.

  
_The night is August 17th. A warm, stuffy summer night and we’re heading back from another house party. He jokes that he’s a good boy and doesn’t need to be walked home – not like me who runs with the rough crowds and has enemies - but he knows it’s our chance to be alone and affectionate. I can see it in his eyes – he tries to hide his emotions from me but I know him too well._

  
We take a detour into the woodland near his home to share our emotions and fondness for each other. He pushes me off playfully, telling me I’m too drunk to get it up and that he should head home before his parents get worried. I admit defeat and we return to the path. I make sure Araz makes it home safely. They never laid a hand on him. Me, however, I’m not so lucky. A gang of older boys have followed us from the party, suspecting our relationship and they’ve decided I was to pay for my sinful love in blood.

  
Stop. This part is a blur. They take me from behind and I’m too drunk to fight back. I’m too fucking weak.

  
Galisthros…well, it’s not a friendly country for anyone who should fall for the same sex. It’s a bit more progressive now with its numerous LGBT clubs trying to normalize us and give us a chance to meet others in our community but back then, it was horrible and I was too headstrong and proud to even consider how serious the threat was. Araz and I had no choice but to hide our emotions or we faced jail time. It sounds crazy now but back then, this shit was serious. I pretended for his sake. It was his school life, his career and his future that concerned me.

  
_So, I kiss him goodbye, savouring his taste on my lips like ice cream under the sweltering moonlight and watch him as he makes his way up the garden path to his parents’ mansion. Araz is a rich kid, a lucky kid. I can’t understand why he chose me of all people – the only thing we have in common is the partying. He glances back over his shoulder and gives me a smile before turning back to the front door. I wave at his t-shirt clad back and make my hellbound journey back to the party. I’m attacked. It starts with a savage beating, going from fists to nearby rocks and then ends with a knife. I would have died if…_

  
If Jak hadn’t been stalking me for a year.

  
I should have known something wasn’t right that year. I began to feel cold spots in my bedroom that I couldn’t explain, I’d have horrific incubus nightmares that would leave me in tears, though I’m loathe to admit it. Electronics would turn themselves on and off sometimes and I always felt like I was being watched but I just played it off as paranoia. In reality, I was being observed and toyed with by a Nightmare spirit.

  
I don’t know what made Jak save my life that night. He should have drank my blood or forced me back to the Blood Works but…he didn’t.

  
Araz…

  
Sometimes I wish I had a cellphone so I could contact him – look him up on social media, just make sure he’s okay but I’m forbidden from anything like that. Jak would…well, I don’t know what he’d do but I don’t want to find out. And how would I ever explain the aging anyway? Araz’ll be forty three now and I’m…I’m stuck in the body of a seventeen year old. There’s not a line or wrinkle on my face, no grey hair, no aging. To Araz, it’d seem like I’d been frozen in time. And how would I react to seeing him at forty three when my memories are of a brilliant eighteen year old math geek with a coke habit? I don’t think I could even imagine Araz as a grown man. Is he still concealing his orientation out of fear or has the tides of LGBT progressivism swept him into the open? Would he be married? A wife and kids as a front? Fuck, I don’t wanna think about this shit. I’m just a distant memory anyway – the fish that escaped into the ocean before he could catch me.

  
I often wonder what I’d do if Jak finally turned around and said “you know what, Dean? Fuck it. Let’s give this shit a try” and if Araz turned up too. Who would I choose? It’s…it’s sad to say but there’s no contest. Jak. He wins every time. He...makes me feel like no other man or woman could.

  
I open my eyes in the gloom of the early morning, casting my gaze to the bed across from me. To my surprise, Jak is wide awake – he’s sitting on the edge of the bed facing me, clad in his underwear. His skin is ghostly white, almost ethereal under the fading moonlight.

  
“Why do you keep thinking about him?” he asks me. This again. As an elder vampire, Jak can infiltrate my thoughts. It terrifies me to realise he must know how I feel about him but…he’s never brought it up in conversation. He obviously doesn’t care.

  
“I…” I can’t even croak out the words.

  
“Do you resent me for taking your life?” he asks, his voice as dark as the shadows that lie across our shared bedroom. I don’t know why he asks me these stupid questions when he knows what I’m thinking.

  
“You know I don’t,” I groan, raising a leg to kick the duvet off. A gust of cool air sweeps over me. “I miss him, that’s all. You know that.”

  
“I know it but I don’t understand it,” he growls. I cast my head to glance at him, feeling that familiar pang of desire as the morning light cascades over his muscles. His crimson eyes seem to glow like eerie LEDs in the gloom as he stares at me. “Why do you still care?”

  
I often wonder that myself, Jak. I’m lonely I guess and pining after you isn’t getting me anywhere.

  
“Us humans are pretty weird, I guess.”

  
“But you’re not human.”

  
Here we go. Every time I mention human, Jak is always quick to attempt to shame me for feeling emotions. It’s not that vampires can’t feel emotions – it’s that elder vampires can’t. I’ve been with Jak for twenty five years and I’ve never seen a smile crack across his face, not a genuine one anyway. He’ll play the role for any humans we’re luring but he doesn’t seem to have any emotions. Not positive ones, at least. Wonder if he’s ever been in love…

  
“Negative,” he tells me, reading my mind again.

  
“You need to stop doing that,” I mutter, rolling over on my side away from him.

  
“And you need to stop spilling your emotional energy all over the place like a leaky bucket.”

  
Whatever Jak. My emotions keep me human.


End file.
